


"Dogs are greeeeeeeeeeeeat!" or Sorry I broke into your yard at 3am and threw up on you.

by Aproclivity



Series: Tumblr-inspired fics [2]
Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: AU Fluff, Alex loves dogs, F/M, Gen, Richard has a dog, Ruby Ships It, an alternative meetcute, drinking and pot usage, inspired by a tumblr post, just silliness, ruby is amazing, some post finale self care, strand has a dog named occum, strand takes care of ruby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 15:30:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12707754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aproclivity/pseuds/Aproclivity
Summary: Alex Reagan becomes friendly with Ruby Carver while trying to get Richard Strand to consent to an interview so Ruby invites Alex to a party at her place and hijinks ensue. (AU from 101!)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So the finale sucked and kicked all of our collective asses and broke our brains so here is some fluff before I get suckered into writing my own fix it. Inspired by a prompt on tumblr: “I met you last night when you were drunkenly patting my dog in my backyard at 3 in the morning and when i asked you what the hell you were doing you slurred something about dogs being great and then you threw up on my feet and then fifteen minutes later you were passed out on my couch so that’s why you’re here right now also what the fuck is your name and why were you patting a dog in a stranger’s backyard in the middle of the night” This is just pure silliness.

Alex Reagan had spoken to Ruby seventeen times on the telephone. Yes, she had left eleven messages, but in between those calls she’d called to check in to see if he’d _gotten_ the messages. Her and Ruby had begun talking then about bosses and deadlines and just generalized chatting about things. Talking to people about the things that they liked was a good way to get them to open up about themselves, and Alex was quite good at getting people to do that. 

More than that, she’d shown up at the offices of the Strand Institute three times, and two of those times had ended with her taking Ruby out to lunch. The first time, Ruby picked a place nearby so they could get back to work, but their second lunch was far more leisurely, and Ruby offered to show Alex around Chicago a little bit. Of course, Alex was more than a little taken back by how Ruby looked; when she’d spoken to her she’d expected her to be older and more professional. She definitely hadn’t expected someone younger than herself with shockingly pink hair and multiple facial piercings and wearing ripped jeans at the office. Ruby had explained once: Mel handled most things, but Ruby was Strand’s personal assistant. 

According to Ruby, she was handed the problems that Mel couldn’t handle, and Alex didn’t know if she should be surprised, amused or alarmed at the fact that she was getting to be considered such a pain in the ass that she’d been given to Ruby to deal with. 

In the end however, Alex had won Ruby over, which was how she’d managed to score an invitation to a party the girl was throwing over the weekend. With no movement on getting closer to Strand, and having exhausted the possibilities of Emily Dumond, Alex was leaving on Monday, so she didn’t see the harm in going to a party as a way of saying goodbye to Chicago and it’s weather and the asshole who had refused to see her even though she had been her persistent, charming self. 

When the uber pulled up at the address that Ruby had given her, Alex texted the other woman twice to confirm it. This definitely didn’t seem like the sort of neighborhood that would host a wild party. The houses were large and there was a far amount of green in the yards, and it seemed _quiet_. For a minute, Alex definitely thought Ruby was fucking with her, and it was only when the uber driver told her in or out that she actually left the car. 

“Above the garage.” The text message said. Alex could see the garage, and she could hear music as she got closer to it, and for the first time she wondered what was she doing. Alex Reagan was no stranger to parties. Her best friend since college was Nic-I-never-found-something-I-couldn’t-smoke-Silver, and the PNWS parties were known for their drunken debauchery, but this felt different. Pulling out her phone, Alex already had the uber app open to call the car back when light spilled from the open doorway and onto the stairs. 

“Reagan!” The voice was quick, and the pink-haired girl was impossibly fast as she came barefoot down the stairs and caught Alex’s arm. “I thought you were going to chicken out on us. Come on.” 

“Nope, I never chicken out,” Alex countered with a grin, even though she had been only a few seconds from actually doing it. She climbed up the stairs into an apartment that was surprisingly well furnished and taken care of (if Alex was honest, she would say it would put her own apartment to shame, but given how little time she spent there of late it didn’t matter.) Even before Alex could take her coat off, she was handed the traditional red solo cup with it’s traditional way too sweet smelling drink in it. 

Way too sweet smelling drinks normally meant a rather large amount of booze hidden inside and this one was no exception. Ruby shouted in Alex’s ear over the din of the party. “Cheers!” Before she clinked the two plastic cups together. Pulling a face, Alex took a sip of the drink and caught Ruby still drinking, from the cup. With a grimace, Alex followed suit until the whatever the hell was inside the Hawaiian Punch was gone. Yep, this definitely was hiding some 151 inside of it; Alex would always remember that from her college days. 

Following her hostess through the party, Alex was handed a shot and she just stared at it before she did it, and followed it up with another solo cup of the ‘jungle juice.’ Apparently, that was what kids were calling it these days. The scent of pot was heavier inside of here, and the music was loud, and Alex honestly didn’t even need to take a hit to get a contact high. However, she did end up with an edible in the form of a brownie and her third (fourth?) glass of punch and a conversation about sexism in horror stories before someone handed her a fourth (fifth?) shot before she realized how warm it was in here. And how long she had been here. 

It had been the intention of Alex Reagan that she only take a minute outside to cool off and to catch her breath and to get out of the din. But even on the landing of the staircase, the music was still too loud and Alex almost felt like she couldn’t catch her breath. She knew she was drunk, but she had forgotten how it felt to be drunk and high at the same time. Honestly, she would have called for her uber again, but she’d left her phone with her purse and her coat and her cardigan on the couch in Ruby’s living room. 

Wandering down the stairs, Alex found herself standing before an ornate looking wooden gate. She tested it for just a second before she pressed it open and stumbled into a well manicured backyard. A dog barked close by from it’s dog house, and it was all Alex could do to say “puppy!” Dropping onto the ground in front of the dog, she opened her arms up to it, because in Alex’s experience dogs always loved her and she loved all of them and the golden retriever was not an exception as it moved into her lap. 

“Good boy. Who’s a good boy? You’re a good boy!” Alex was definitely not using her podcaster voice for this. Instead, she was using the voice that many women used for small children and dogs. The dog wagged his tail furiously, and moved in for belly rubs and Alex was far too engrossed in what she was doing to notice that the backyard was suddenly much brighter, or to hear the sound of the french doors opening onto the patio. 

“Such a good boy! What’s your name, good boy?” Alex asked the words quickly, the dampness sinking into her jeans and shirt without her even noticing them. Nor did she notice the rather large amount of goosebumps that all of her skin had turned into. Her lap was fine and warm and full of fur, so basically nothing else mattered as she got lower and lower to the dog, finally sinking her chilled cheeks into that warm fur. 

“His name is Occam.” There was a voice behind her, and she didn’t notice how annoyed he sounded, or about the fact that it was sexy, or about anything really other than the dog’s name. 

“Aren’t dogs the best?” The last word was drawn out into a slur. “I swear, they are so much better than people, don’t you think?” Sure she was asking a stranger a question, but it was what she did for a living, so it didn’t bother Alex in the slightest. It was only after the next question that was asked of her did she even realize that this might have been a very. Bad. thing. To be doing doing at three in the morning. 

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my yard?” The voice sounded annoyed and tired, and Alex tried to move to her feet but was met with very little success when she tried to turn around. She hadn’t felt this drunk before, but the world was completely spinning at the moment and when Alex got to her feet, she stared at the man in the lights that he’d turned on. 

Wow, she really was a lightweight now, wasn’t she? 

But the first thing out of her mouth was: “oh my god, you’re _Richard Strand_!” She recognized him from the pretentious picture on his twitter and she barely managed to look towards the garage and the party before the second thing came out her mouth and she couldn’t stop it. Instead, Alex Reagan of the eleven calls vomited rather forcefully onto the shoes of eleven messages ignorer Richard Strand. 

And that was the last thing she remembered before her world turned black.


	2. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex wakes up and needs to deal with Strand after breaking into his yard and vomiting on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to get this chapter out! I got hit with a major writing block and was applying to grad school and I hope this just makes you guys laugh!

When Alex woke up, she became rather painfully aware of three things. The first thing was the incessant pounding in her head. Alex considered herself something of a person who can hold their liquor and hold off a hangover. The trick for her was a quart of water and two advil before bed. Clearly she hadn’t done that because at this moment her brain was attempting to evacuate from her body through the front of her skull. Wincing at the natural light in the room, Alex was finding it quite clear that whatever happened, she had really screwed this up this time. 

The second realization that she had was in the way that she was definitely not in her hotel room. Oh, the show didn’t put her up in a fancy hotel, but at least there she had a bed. Alex became aware of the fact that the back of her legs were sticking to an otherwise rather comfortable leather sofa and there was a dog laying on her feet. Someone had at least covered her over with a soft blanket anyway.... 

The third realization she had was perhaps the most alarming. _Alex’s legs were sticking to the sofa._ Alex’s wardrobe normally consisted of jeans or some other sort of pants, a nice shirt if she was doing something and a t-shirt if she wasn’t, a blazer or cardigan and a scarf. She had dresses and suits for if she needed them, but for the most part they just hung in her closet back home. There was no way in hell she had shoved them into the suitcase and worn them out to the party last night.  
Sitting up with a speed that caused the room to lurch one way and her stomach to lurch the other, Alex stared down at the very very large, faded, gray T-shirt with ‘YALE’ scrawled upon the chest. Even though the room was spinning, Alex had the terrible feeling that came with sleeping in a bra, and she winced at that so whoever had taken her clothing off at least hadn’t seen her naked. Probably. Hopefully? 

With one hand pressed to her her forehead to help block out the light, and she just groaned very very loudly before she added, “oh my god….” 

“You know,” said the voice that was familiar and not because Alex only remembered hearing it for three seconds before she oh god oh god oh god _before she threw up on Richard Strand_. “For someone who claims to be an agnostic, you do use that phrase with alarming regularity.” 

Alex just barely managed to open her eyes under her hand, and she blindly reached out for the end table and her glasses, which thankfully they were on. The world came somewhat into focus, and she stared up at the giant man whom she had vomited on before, and Alex squeezed her eyes tight and wished that she was quite literally anywhere else on earth other than this in this moment. 

“Do you mind telling me what the hell you were doing in my yard and petting my dog at three in the morning? Also, if you’re looking for your clothing it is currently in the dryer. I didn’t think it would be very sanitary if I left you in it on my sofa overnight. You were indeed _quite_ sick.” 

Alex just breathed ‘oh god’ one more time before she opened her eyes and looked up at the man whom she had come here to meet. And who she had broken into the backyard of. And whom she’d been sick on. And who had seen her in her silly underwear and plain bra. But despite the firmness in his tone, he is holding a bottle of cold water and a bottle of advil at her like at least one of her prayers had been answered, and she doesn’t say anything until after the three advil and three quarters of the water are in her stomach. 

“I’m really sorry I broke into your backyard. You see Ruby invited me to her party and…” And then Alex groaned loud enough to make her head hurt, and she just sort of buried her face in her hands. “Ruby lives above your garage, doesn’t she?” Without waiting for an answer, because Alex didn’t take steps as much as she took leaps she added, “oh god did she set me up so that I would stop calling?” 

Richard Strand stared at the woman who his dog had grown quite fond of (which was funny, because the only humans he liked were Strand himself and Ruby, which is why he had gone outside to see who was petting his dog; the last thing he wanted was a tedious and expensive lawsuit with one of his assistant’s… ‘friends’.) and the crimson-faced woman who was currently burying her face in the dog’s stomach like it was somehow going to save her. Strand spared only a single thought for the dog as his tail wagged, and it was something rather distinctly like: ‘ _traitor_ before he took a step away from the tiny woman who seemed to be attempting to make herself small enough that she could somehow hide below his dog. 

“Would you excuse me for a minute?” There was some movement on the dog which caused him to assume that the woman had nodded, and he was drawing his phone before turning on his heel to head towards his kitchen. Pausing for a moment, he decided on a preventive: “if you feel the need to be sick again, there is a powder room. Second door on your right.” A long sigh and a beat followed before he added: “please don’t be sick on my dog.” 

With the only response from the woman being a distressed moan, Strand flicked through his phone messages before he found the one that was labeled ‘assistant extraordinaire.’ His soon to be former assistant had been the one who had carried over his contacts when he had moved from his blackberry to this iphone, and this was one of the things that he wouldn’t miss. Flicking on the electric kettle with one hand, Strand began typing with his other, and the fact that he didn’t go back and correct any of his mistakes disclosed his ire to her. ‘ _You’Re fired!_ ’

The response came immediately and Strand knew that his assistant was certainly no where near in the same condition as the woman currently attempting to burrow into his dog and couch were. ‘ _No I’m not!_ ’

‘ _You owe me a new pair of shoes._ ’

‘ _Oh so that’s where she went._ ’ Strand just released a long and drawn out sigh for a moment, attempting to swallow some of his anger before he responded. 

‘ _Were you not concerned about her welfare? Any number of things could happen to an attractive drunk woman no matter how safe the neighborhood is!_ ’

Ruby’s texts came right on top of one another. First: ‘ _She’s an adult ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯._ ’ Which of course only provoked his ire more before the second one came through. _’She’s definitely your type, boss. And you just said she’s attractive so…. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯_ ’

Strand groaned loudly and pressed his hand to his forehead for a minute when there was the high-pitched sound of the teakettle. He should have known it was a mistake to allow his intern to move into the vacant apartment, but Strand had liked the girl and he didn’t want to lose her when she dropped out of college. So, Ruby had become his assistant and she still lived over his garage. For the most part, he had gotten used to the parties, and she had normally warned her guests away from his part of the property, as well as his dog. 

‘ _Occam could have mauled her, and then she could have sued me and what would you have done then?_ ’ The text was easier sent once Strand was more in the mode of angry texting, and when Ruby’s response was not immediate, he took out the coffee he kept for his assistant and poured in the proper amount into his french press. Hot water was added and he hoped that the woman in his living room understood that he was sacrificing his normal tea in favor of coffee so that the woman wouldn’t think that a strange man was drugging her. 

There were two minutes gone on the four minute counter he’d set for the french press when Ruby texted him back. ‘ _Occam was fine. He liked her. See, I’m right! Good taste! I was watching from the stairs._ ’  
Well, that moved him directly back into angry text mode once more: _You were wAtching from the stAIrs? Then why didn’t you come and get her?_ ’ 

‘ _And miss someone throwing up on your shoes and then getting caught like a bride and carried into the house? Never! I even have it on video!_ ’ Strand was going to miss Ruby, but he was quite through with her incessant desire to set him up with a romantic partner. Besides, this girl was the same age as his _daughter_! 

‘ _You are most definitely fired!_ ’

‘ _I am most definitely NOT! Besides, I have blackmail on you now to last forever._ ’ Strand just groaned again, and he divided the coffee between two cups before he pulled the milk from his refrigerator. One the color of the coffee had turned from black to a sickly gray, he returned to his phone. 

‘ _Will you at least bring the rest of her things so I can get her into a cab back to her hotel?!’_

‘ _No can do, bossman. I’m out at brunch._ ’ Strand didn’t have a key to Ruby’s apartment because he respected her privacy. Respecting a woman’s privacy was a lesson that he’d learned very early on from both Coralee and Charlie, and he’d made a show of giving both copies of the keys to Ruby’s front door to her. Of course Ruby didn’t share the same courtesy with him; his assistant used her house key many times over to steal his dog and pillage his refrigerator. Honestly, that had been the compromise for the doghouse; so that Ruby didn’t set off his alarm in the middle of the night anymore. The first thirty or so times had been quite enough.

Strand sighed again, and he grit his teeth before he just responded: ‘ _This isn’t going to work, Ruby. You know what happened to the last four reporters who have attempted to interview me, and they weren’t ones who vomited on my shoes._ ’ Which despite his point he did feel the need to ask: ‘ _When will you be home._ ’

‘ _Bottomless bloody marys. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯_ ’ And then another minute later after he had cursed under his breath and as he was heavily ladling sugar into both cups. _’Besides, she’s smart, attractive, sees a lot and can keep you on your toes. And if she hasn’t run screaming yet then she’s stronger than you think._ ’  
Ignoring his phone but so that his assistant would see that he’d read it, Strand moved back into the living room. In his absence, his unwanted houseguest had managed to pull the blanket over both her and Occum to such an extent that only the dog’s nose and tail were visible below it. He’d been about to leave her alone to sleep it off until his assistant came home when he heard a soft: “is that coffee?” Followed by the slow removal of the blanket from the woman’s (and dog’s) face. She was definitely still a shade of pink, but she looked less glassy-eyed than she had before he’d gone to make the coffee. 

“I…” Richard just considered a moment as she sat up slowly, and held her hands out. “I made them both the same, so take which one you’d rather.” Despite what he would have hoped would have happen, Alex just picked a cup at random and took a very long sip of it, ignoring the heat. She didn’t even wait until he had tried it. Dropping into the chair near the couch, he just studied her, singularly unimpressed. “You _are_ aware that I’m a stranger and thus could have slipped any sort of drug or poison into your coffee and you just drank it without thinking about it.” 

The woman had a grimace on her face when she spoke. “Jesus, I’m not sure that you _didn’t_. How much sugar did you put in here?” 

“If you are dissatisfied with my coffee, Ms. Reagan, that you have my full permission to go and make yourself a cup, but it hardly seems like you’re in any condition to do it.” Maybe it was the a about admonition the coffee, but it seemed far more likely that the reason that Alex just needed the coffee that she sat up, the blanket across her lap and Occam's head joined it for more pettings. 

“Look, Dr. Strand…” Alex began and she just took another two scalding sips of coffee like they were nothing, even if the sugar was going to make her practically vibrate off the walls later. “I am really sorry about everything. I never would have accepted Ruby’s invitation if I had known she lived above your garage. I know I can be…” Alex fumbled for the proper word before she settled on “persistent” which brought a smile from Strand, even if it was a thin one. “But I never would have broken into your yard or anything like that. I mean, that’s crossing a line even I wouldn’t cross.” 

As she spoke, her face got even more pink before she added, “and I’ll gladly pay for your shoes and any damage that I’ve done.”  
“It's alright. My soon to be former assistant is going to pay for them.” If it wasn't for the wiry smile on his face, Alex never would have known that he was joking. 

“It's really amazing that you let her live above your garage. Even if she does have such wild parties. Paul is really great but I'm pretty sure he would only let me crash in his guest room for a couple of days.”

“Ruby was interning for me at the Strand Institute when she unexpectedly needed to dropout of school through no part of her own. I was loathe to lose her so I offered her a position as my personal assistant. Unfortunately with the loss of her being in school it meant that she also lost her housing as well. With the apartment market in Chicago it would have been difficult for her to find something at her age. I had the empty apartment so it just worked out the best for both of us. Besides it makes it easier for her to take care of Occam when I am away.” Strand looked towards his traitorous dog once more. “He doesn't like many people.”

“This old softie?” Alex countered and she leaned forward and petted the dog again. “I can't believe it.”

“It's true. If Ruby had informed me she was having a party he would have been safely in the house with me. Ruby sometimes feels the need to steal him at night so the compromise we made was to leave him in the yard until he decided to bark to come in. Last night he didn’t so…” Strand left that sentence lingering for a moment, and he wondered why he felt such a need to explain himself to a woman who had broken into his yard and thrown up on him. But despite feeling that, Strand found himself adding on: “I would ah, appreciate it if you didn’t report on the story about allowing Ruby to stay here. You see, it’s not mine to tell and might place her in a difficult position.” 

Alex just waved her hand with a smile. “Don’t worry, Dr. Strand. I’m pretty sure journalism ethics would stop me from publishing something that a source had shared with me off the record when I was wearing his shirt and after I had broken into his yard and thrown up on him.” Strand could tell that her laugh was less robust than it normally would be, just from the weakness in her laugh which was probably a result of the headache.  
Wordlessly, he handed over the second and untouched cup of coffee, which Alex accepted without hesitation. This time, at least, she slipped it more slowly, and she frowned for a moment. “Besides, I don’t even know where my recorder and stuff is. I’m assuming I left it at Ruby’s?”

Strand grimaced. “Yes, I’m afraid you left your coat and your sweater and everything else up in her apartment, I texted her while I was in the kitchen, and it seems that my wayward assistant has found herself in a far better state than you this morning, and she has gone out for brunch to a place that has, and I quote, ‘bottomless bloody marys.’ Knowing Ruby it’s going to be several hours until she returns home so she can get your things.” But he appeared to make a decision, and stood up. “There’s a guest room upstairs, first door on your left. It’s fully stocked with toiletries and I’ve already put clean towels in.” He smiled a bit again. “I keep it for my colleagues when they come into town for conferences. Academics are notoriously forgetful when it comes to bringing along things like toothbrushes.” 

“Really? I bet you never forget any of that stuff,” Alex gestured at his clothing, and now she was aware of the fact that even though it was a Sunday morning, Strand was currently wearing a pair of pressed khaki trousers, a button down shirt (though it was loose at the neck) and a v-neck sweater. He looked, in her eyes for want of a better term: great. Even if he had been awoken at three in the morning by a puking journalist. 

“Yes. Well. Not all of us are like that.” He looked a little uncomfortable at that, and then started to move away from her. “If you wish to head to shower, I’ll grab your clothing from the laundry and leave it outside the door.” 

“You know,” Alex began softly, “you really are being way nicer to me than I would be.” Which caused Strand to scoff; he could already tell that Alex Reagan was the sort of woman who would most definitely not have been a bitch to a drunk person who had broken into her yard, especially as someone as tiny and apologetic as Alex herself had been. He was about to tell her that when she went on, “and besides, it might be good to shake up some members of the ghost hunting community with just how decent you can be.”

He laughed at her, and she didn’t look offended, instead she somehow even look more earnest than she did before when she jutted her chin out and announced: “I’m serious.” And then her eyes sparkled. “Besides, it would prove Emily DuMond wrong about you, and I bet that you’d _love_ that.” 

“So you’ve had the pleasure of meeting Ms. DuMond, have you?” He looked a bit amused at that. “Tell me, what does she have to say about me?” 

Alex raised a brow in what was clearly an ‘are you sure you want to hear about this?’ expression, and when he nodded, she just shrugged before she said: “Emily DuMond things that you are the world’s only living heart donor.”  
Strand just rolled his eyes. “That woman hasn’t had an original thought in her entire life. That’s a quote from--” 

Alex cut him off. “Sabrina. I know. And honestly, I’ve skimmed over some of her writing on the way here from Seattle. I’m not the slightest bit surprised.” 

“It’s complete dreck. Emily DuMond wouldn’t know an original thought if it came up to her and wrote it’s name on her face.”  
Laughing softly, Alex just shrugged. “I definitely had traumatic flashbacks to when I read 50 Shades of Grey for a story. I’m pretty sure she commits literary war crimes with her writing.” 

Despite not knowing what she was talking about (and filing the book name away for later use) he studied her once more before she continued: “I’ve read your books too, you know.” 

Richard drew back, surprised and it was evident in his voice and his expression. “You have?” A pause, and a smirk came along. “Should we head to the Hague so I can be tried for literary war crimes, as you put it?” 

“Nah, they’re not _that_ bad. I think Jenna is worth whatever you pay her though. I gotta say they were surprisingly hard to find. I needed to get them from the campus library after your dean kicked me out of the religion building.” 

“You went to the university?” He just stared at her for a moment. 

“Of course. I told you, I’m--” 

Strand cut her off. “Persistent, yes. I’m actually surprised Charles sent you away. Normally he loves the press.” 

Alex just shrugged at him, the haze nearly entirely gone from her now as they discussed her profession and the reason she was here in Chicago. “He told me that he didn’t want any more ‘ghost hunters there to fight with you.’ So I just went to the bookstore and called Ruby again. Either way, Doctor Strand, I found them immensely interesting, and I’m not just saying that.” 

If asked, Strand couldn’t explain what he said next, and was almost more shocked than Alex when it came out of his mouth: “Call me Richard.” A beat, because even to his closest colleagues, he was still Strand. And then he added, “please.” 

Alex looked pleased, and then gave him a smile that could only be described as luminous. “Okay, Richard. But only if you’ll call me Alex.” 

“Done.” He smiled back before saying her name as if he was trying it on his lips. “Alex. If you’d like to go take a shower, I’ll make some more coffee.” 

“Only if you promise to put less sugar in it!” Alex slipped off the couch easily, and she was glad for the way that the shirt covered her almost more than a dress she wore would. Strand looked away quickly, and he swallowed the lump in his throat before he nodded and headed to the kitchen. 

Hearing Alex thunder up the stairs (really, how did she do that when she was such a _tiny_ person?) Strand picked up his phone and texted his assistant, who in true Ruby form, hadn’t texted him back because he didn’t text her. _Book Ms. Reagan a flight on Thursday. Charge it to the Institute. Also check in with her hotel and see if you can extend her stay until then too. If no, find her another one._ It wasn’t until after he’d pressed the send button did Strand actually think about what he was doing. He was probably being incredibly stupid. He was waiting for his assistant to tell him so, and he was more than a little suspicious when she just texted back: _Will do when I get home, bossman._

This couldn’t be right. Ruby was supposed to talk him out of doing things like this, not support him. For a moment, Richard considered texting her back and telling her to forget it, but knowing Ruby and how she’d memorized the Institute’s credit card number in the first week she was on the job he was willing to bet that the plane tickets were well on their way to being booked. You are having a childish reaction to her, the good Doctor tried to tell himself, but he didn’t stop Ruby from doing what he’d said. Honestly, he didn’t even actually really consider making the attempt. 

Strand let out a large sigh and gathered up Alex’s clothing from the dryer before he heard Occum making a howling sound upstairs. Still holding her unfolded clothing in his hands, and despite how his body might protest later with the already added strain of carrying the girl inside, Strand took the steep Victorian stairs two at a time before he came to the open door to the bedroom, and heard the howling inside. 

Already on the offensive, Strand just tossed the clothing onto the bed and had made his way towards the largely open bathroom door (with it’s billows of escaping steam) just in case something had happened. However, before he embarrassed himself by walking in, Richard realized that what was actually happening was his dog was howling along with Alex Reagan’s off key butchering of Bohemian Rhapsody. Taking two large steps backwards so that she wouldn’t think that he was spying on her, Richard found himself giving himself stroke protocols just in case. 

He was in the middle of them and was so sent on making certain that this wasn’t all such a fever dream, that he hadn’t realized that Occum had stopped howling, that Alex had stopped singing or that the water had indeed stopped. All of that escaped his notice until he realized that Alex Reagan was standing there in a towel with another one wrapped around his hair, and he was gaping at her. There was a sound that he made that was suspiciously like ‘ _oh fuck_ when he turned around so that he wasn’t staring at her. The bumbling continued when he tried to explain. “I… I didn’t mean to burst in on you like this, Ms. Reagan. I apologize. I heard Occum and I thought that something might have been…” A beat. “In my line of work I can’t be too careful, you see.” Another beat. “There have been several incidents…” Thankfully before Strand realized in the moment that he was blathering to a reporter about things that he really shouldn’t, Alex spoke behind him. 

“It’s alright, Richard. I mean, I didn’t expect Occum to come up and start howling, and I didn’t think that I shouldn’t be singing here. I kind of do it so I don’t stay in the shower too long. The environment and all of that. Bohemian Rhapsody in the perfect length for me in the shower, and twice when I need to wash my hair.” Strand cold almost hear the blood in her cheeks at admitting that, and in _not_ admitting that she had needed to wash her hair. “I’ll be. Out in a minute, if you don’t mind.” 

It wasn’t that Richard fled, shutting the door tightly behind him… No, it was that he did in fact flee shutting the door tightly behind him. And then the door to the kitchen as well when he reached it. This weekend wasn’t going at all to plan, and this woman wasn’t going at all to plan, and he honestly needed to be rid of her… But somehow he found himself in the refrigerator removing the carton of eggs and a package of bacon. He found himself making more coffee, and then he found himself smiling at the woman who came down with wet hair tied back and red on her cheeks. 

“I thought…” He began softly. “I thought we’d begin again if you’re amenable. I’ll make your breakfast, and then tomorrow you can come to the Institute and interview me properly. Ruby’s taking care of your plane and your hotel.” And then Strand cleared his throat. “If you have no objections, I mean.” 

Alex just grinned at him. “I have to move some things around, Richard, but I have no objections.” And then she sat across from him on the kitchen aisle and dropped her chin into his palm, her eyes finding his with something like excitement and amusement. “But I’m sure that we’re going to make an amazing team.”There was something about that grin that dazzled him, and he found himself returning it, Coralee and everything else be damned. 

“I think so too, Alex. I’m excited to show you some things I’ve been working on.” The Black Tapes, he meant and he was showing off, but there was no small part of him that had decided that he was going to keep Alex Reagan in his life. She was too precious of a gift to waste.


End file.
